


Vindex

by AwesomeJon



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Dark, F/F, Gen, Mutilation, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-01-31 13:03:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21446662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwesomeJon/pseuds/AwesomeJon
Summary: A claimant, one who vindicates. An act of brutality ties the fates of Sophia and Taylor together irrevocably. They said love would conquer all, but they didn't say like this...
Relationships: Taylor Hebert | Skitter | Weaver/Sophia Hess | Shadow Stalker
Comments: 26
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

I'm almost home from school when strong arms grab me around my waist from behind. A club — or maybe a baton — hits me on the head. I see stars, then nothing at all. Today really had been a decent day…

I wake up in an alley. The sun is setting. _They're_ standing over me. I'm tied up, hands behind my back. I close my eyes, try to pretend I'm still knocked out. 

"This isn't going to make things better," Sophia says. That's confusing, why is she trying to moderate Emma at all? Usually she's the ringleader. 

"I don't care, honestly." Uh-oh. 

"Well, you won't come back from this if it doesn't work like you imagine it will." This is bad. Real bad. Sophia sounds scared actually. What happened to Emma? 

"I need to see what she does. You know your lines. Do it."

Sophia grunts, then there's a kick in my ribs. "Wake up, Hebert." 

I "come to" obligingly. "Uh, what…where am I? Hey! Let me go! You guys have crossed a line! What the fuck? Untie me!" All genuine, honestly. I've every intention of fighting my way out of this. This is so bad. I can only imagine it will get worse. 

As if summoned from a nightmare by my pessimistic panic, Sophia pulls a knife from her belt. "So here's the deal. Emma here thinks she has what it takes to prove she's a real predator. She thinks leaving a real mark on you will show that. So this is kind of her initiation, in a way."

"You guys are fucked up." I glare. 

"Well it's probably a bit late for that but thanks for letting us know. Anyway, pick one. Both ears, the nose, or one eye?" 

"...what?" 

"Emma will go to town on the one you pick, with this." She waves the knife around in a neat figure eight. "And prove her worth." She glances at Emma, conveying a sort of scathing skepticism even I can see. As if I'm supposed to see it. There's some subtext I'm missing here. 

Something clicks, and I realize why it's taken me so long to do anything. Because the teachers doing it for me won't actually work. And anything I know how to do is only one extreme or another. I've refused to fold and die, no matter how many times it's occurred to me — and some days I long for it — but _escalating_ has always been impossible. Until now. 

"Fine then. Where's Madison by the way? This too fucked up for her?" I stare daggers at Emma, searching her face for…anything at all. "Yeah, that's what I thought." Pushing my only advantage, which is that I refuse to break. And what refuses to break will eventually push back. 

"Damn. You didn't tell me Hebert had balls."

"It's bluster, nothing more. She'll kill herself when this is done." 

"Bluster is more than I remember —" 

Emma holds up her hand. "Just give me the fucking knife. Which is it, Taylor?" 

"The eye, Ems. I never want to see you again and I want you to remember that." Sophia is glowing, smiling even. I've never seen Sophia smile. This is so horrifying, so wrong. She hands the knife to Emma. It's so shiny in the evening light… 

"All right, Barnes. You're on. I gotta warn you though. Best to not fuck this up." 

Emma flinches, kneeling over me with the knife in her hand. I look at her with a sadness and love that haven't mingled in me for a long time…or maybe they haven't been acknowledged. "Ems, what happened to you?" I ask plaintively. 

"You're about to find out." She places her left hand over my eye socket, bracing my head, and…hesitates. 

"Show me what you've got, Barnes. She wouldn't have broken so by your logic she wouldn't have held back, right?"

"What? Did this...something like it…" I stare as Emma throws the knife. It bounces off a nearby dumpster and clatters, falling at Sophia's feet. 

"I can't. I just can't, all right? I want to be that kind of person but I guess I'm not."

What the fuck. 

"Yeah well now I'm accessory to kidnapping, your daddy's a lawyer, and I'm not dealing with the fallout there. So do it." Sophia's voice is black steel. "Do what you came to do. Show me who you are."

"I am showing you who I am, Sophia. I don't like it either." Emma is sobbing. "I have to go. Just...just let her go okay?"

I'm entirely bewildered. In a daze, even. This whole thing is just beyond my ability to grasp, let alone believe. "No no! Don't let me go! I'm here for mutilation and chill, with my best friend. Show me a good time. Do it. Come on."

Emma chokes out a noise that somehow brings to mind a documentary I saw about slaughtering sheep, somewhere in the Hebrides, maybe. Mom and I were watching it and I had nightmares for a week. Then she runs away. 

"Welp. I warned her." Sophia looks grim. 

"Do it. Take the eye yourself. Or so help me God I will…" _will what exactly, tell everyone she was going to take my eye but didn't? What the fuck is my plan here? _I don't expect to leave alive. I'm not even sure I want to. I just want some resolution. If they're actually…this, deep down…

"I don't know what I'll do, Hess. But if this is who you two really are then I need you to be stuck with it just like I am."

"Damn. I knew she wasn't reading you right, but this? You're special. More like me than her."

What the fuck. "I don't want to be like either of you."

"You can't help it. Don't even try to change it. Okay, this will only take a second. And I'm not letting you back out." She sounds like she wants to though. 

"I wouldn't expect you to."

"I know, I know." She's cradling me, pulling me up to a seated position. "Here goes jack and shit." 

There's a searing stabbing pain, so hot so hot so hot. I fight for consciousness, holding onto myself…

For a second I'm blacked out. I see something absolutely horrific, which I can't remember. I assume it's my optic nerve going buh-bye, and besides I'm delirious with the pain…

And blood is running down my face onto my shirt and Sophia is wrapped around me holding me close and what the fuck why is she ki…

"I know this will make you hate me. But you've proven yourself to me in a way she never could. And as soon as we get you out of the hospital I want to be your friend." She pulls a cell phone out of her pocket and I hear three short tones. Guessing 911. My other eye is adjusting, slowly. 

"Sophia what, why?" 

She looks at me like I've asked her the stupidest question in the world. "Strength. Real fucking genuine strength. Resolve. She didn't have that at all. I tried to find it, but...no. And I won't get anywhere if I don't evolve under the gun. Do better. Otherwise I might as well just die." 

I'm feeling faint now, my lips still buzzing with warmth where Sophia FUCKING Hess kissed me. Friends? What is wrong with her? 

"Yeah two of my friends have had a dispute ever since one lost her mother...so she attacked her in an alley and took her eye out with a knife. I need an ambulance, stat." 

"You think I'm going to blame _Emma_ for this?" 

"I think you didn't believe I didn't want to do it. You needed me to do it. Emma wanted me to do it. So I did it, okay? I did it, no one stopped me, it's done. You can tell on me if you want but I don't think it's fair to either of us. Just let me explain, please? When you're stable?" 

Please. Sophia Hess just used the word please, with me. What even is my life?! Well. Honestly, she seems genuine. And I'm so far past rock bottom I can't resist genuine affection, even from someone who just cut my fucking eye out. 

There are sirens approaching. Regular Brockton General ambulance sirens, and cops. It's not often in this city that a crime involves zero parahumans, I muse woozily. 

Just before I pass out I hear Sophia muttering to herself sardonically. "We should have just stuck with the damned flute." 

***** 

Interspersed with short, haunting flute interludes is a constant beeping. There's a woman with flaming hair and dead, dead eyes…they're not even sad. They're dead. A black jaguar and a brown bear cub stalk in a forest, circling each other — they're playing, but it seems horrific. The bear cub gets the drop on the jaguar, closes herculean jaws around its glossy throat… 

And I see mom bent over the steering wheel with her fucking flute sticking out of one eye. I realize I'm next to her…did you know airbags have a faint smell of gunpowder? And I'm bleeding out, and all I can think is "I'm going to be late for school, dammit…" and then there's a black fading shadow that bursts into the car through the roof. Unbuckles my seatbelt, kisses me. And drags me out to a waiting helicopter, but it's the Simurgh…

And on and on and around like this. For what seems like days of fitful sleep. Then I come to. The beeping is still going. I open one eye, and no…no, wait. I open my remaining eye, and there's Dad. Holding my hand. He's been crying. And he's tense, taut like a wire. Shaking with rage. 

"Taylor! I'm so glad you're okay. I wasn't sure you'd…they said you'd wake up, but I didn't…you know?" 

I nod. My throat is dry. I'm exhausted. It occurs to me that I haven't rested at all. "My eye."

He hugs me. "What happened?" 

I look away sadly. "I never told you how bad it was with Emma. I suppose I'd better start." 

Alarm. A deep breath. "Emma? Emma did something at school?" He's putting pieces together now, slowly. 

"Yes. But we can talk about that later honestly. I don't want to. Have they talked about fitting me for a patch, or?" 

"Taylor, I've had a very long conversation with the police just last night. They have a suspect in custody. You never came home from school and by dark I called the cops about that, they called me back an hour later and told me you had been dropped off at the ER by a _wanted parahuman vigilante_." He looks disgusted…no, confounded. 

"Yeah. Is that who they have in custody?" 

Dad sighs. "I don't know why you're playing dumb to protect Emma when she already confessed. I know you cared for her but that friendship is gone. She's looking at _life_, honey. Life in prison."

Had I been playing dumb to protect someone? I thought I just didn't want to talk about it. "Who was the vigilante? Did they get a name?" 

Dad nods. "Shadow Stalker. Who's wanted for murder, actually. So if she helped you, and Emma…"

I hold up a hand. "I don't even want to think about the implications of that right now." In fact I cannot. I must not think about any of this in detail. Or my lifeline will snap and I'll be…in worse shape than I ever could have been back when I still believed I could save _Emma_ from _Sophia_. I need to find…to talk to…to feel…

"Dad, can we get some food in here? And what about my eye?" 

"The doctors will be along to explain that to you in a few here. In the meantime let me get you some food." He steps out into the corridor and I hear him and a nurse murmuring, then he returns with some vanilla cream pudding.

I take it and a spoon and start taking small, considered bites. The world feels very big and I feel very small. Everything is upside down. I'm completely lost, my view of myself and the world I live in destroyed, replaced with…faith, hope and love. Faith in, apparently, Shadow Stalker to not be as bad as Emma was. Hope that I won't stay…whatever Emma thinks I was. And love for...well, for the first person to be genuinely honest with me. The first person to care for me and yet show me exactly who they were deep down. Even Dad hasn't done that for a good long time. 

I'd rather have these than anything else right now. Except vanilla cream pudding. 

*****

That afternoon dad and I are talking to the doctors. They're so clinically detached it's comical. I lost my eye and…oh, who am I kidding? I don't care either. It's worth it. I think it is, anyway. I want to see her again. 

Ha. See her. Fucking ha. Unbelievable. A word breaks through my heartsick contemplation. _Panacea_. 

I sit bolt upright. "I'm sorry, I'm still just kind of dazed here. Can you repeat that?"

A Doctor uh, Wilkes, I think, looks down at his notes and then back up. "For an event of this magnitude, especially if it's a violent crime or parahuman related, we can usually get Panacea on site within an hour of making the call. She can, as you've probably heard, restore your missing —"

I cut him off with a sharp "No." He looks startled and I press my attack. "Not just no but hell no. That was _my_ eye. Panacea didn't put my eye there, did she?" 

He looks at me, puzzled. "No, but…"

"Did she take it away?" 

"Miss, I don't —" 

"Then she will goddamn well not be putting it back. The lack of an eye is also mine alone. It's —" 

_too late to stop myself now _

"— one of the few things, good or bad, that I can call uniquely mine. I have been through the absolute pit of fucking hell since my mom died. And I've got _this_ to show for it."

I tap the bandage with one finger. "It marks me out. I suffered, I wanted to let myself go," 

I look meaningfully at dad and he looks away, ashamed. It's the first time I've even hinted at my suicidal impulses around him.

"but I did not. I did not break. I did not bend. I remain Taylor Hebert, two eyes, one or none. Now. We can talk about cybernetics. We can talk about tinkertech. But we will not EVER —" 

_i'm shouting _

"Put it back the way it was. Someone was so jealous that I could go on when they'd been through arguably worse that they took it from me. That gaping absence is a badge, Doctor Wilkes, of honor. A war wound. And I will go without before I hide my pride in that."

He considers. "Young lady, I heard that same story and speech in Iran back in the nineties from a lot of men barely older than you. I applaud your courage. And I must respect your decision. We'll make a note of it in your file."

Huh. He's talking about the Behemoth War. After his arrival Iran stepped up their nuclear program and got invaded by Israel, who refused to believe their story about needing an anti-Endbringer measure. We intervened and it got ugly. As my mother said, it always did. It reminded me of my own situation and I couldn't figure out why. 

"I appreciate that sir. Thank you for your service." It sounds lame but I really mean it. 

"It's nothing. What I'm pleased with is to see the same courage from a young girl like you. And Tinkertech is definitely an option. It's expensive, and it's a shame, if I may be so blunt, that you didn't trigger. The PRT would be more willing to fund it if you —"

"Charity with strings attached is no charity at all, Doctor."

He nods. "I suppose you got something better than a trigger. Your father did not describe the girl I'm talking to now." 

"I don't know where it's coming from." Vague memories of the vision. Did I trigger? "But it's good that you appreciate the new me. Not that I feel new. More like this was always there."

He nods. "For now anyway a patch seems appropriate. I will leave this catalog here with the options we can send you home with — medical grade patches are fairly cheap from third parties later on, as are glass eyes." 

I take the catalog appreciatively. "What about complimentary rum?" 

He laughs. "I'm afraid that though you're mature for your age, you are not yet 21."

"Yarrr," I say disappointedly.

Dad and I sit in silence after he leaves. I look through the catalog, moping quietly. This is my life now. Pride and its consequences. An endless fall. I want something in matte black, something robust. Carbon fiber maybe? Wow. Muy expensive. Do not like. 

"You can get designs laser engraved on these babies. Pretty cool actually."

Dad laughs. "It's good to see you happy. About something. Anything. I just…she was going to kill you, I think. I don't know what possessed her, I just think that. I don't know why. I've seen people snap. It's never pretty." 

I put the catalog down and sit up straight. "You haven't talked to her, have you?" 

"No. But I've talked to the cops who talked to her. They told me it's a straightforward confession but also that she's not well. So I imagine Alan will try to slime the judge into an insanity defense." 

"It might work too. That is not the Emma I remember." I'm surprisingly equanimous. Truth is I just don't care. She broke. She tried to put me through whatever made her like this, and it made me…super charged. Electricity in my veins. Hyper focused, tense, like a crouching tiger or a coiled snake. I can see it in the way Sophia used to move. Even sitting here eating pudding I'm casual yet…taut. Like razor wire. It feels great. I'm alive. New lease on life. It's definitely better. And Emma broke, I didn't. Which means I broke Emma. I laugh sharply. 

Dad looks at me. "Kind of a sick joke, isn't it?" 

I nod. "Very." 

He thinks for a moment. "Taylor, the cops do want to talk to you." 

"Why? They have a confession, don't they?" 

"Well, you were tied up and clearly restrained otherwise enough for her to get your…uh, eye out. Emma is not physically strong. Nor can she drive. So they think, and it makes sense to me, that she had help." 

I start to say something, anything, to redirect his attention away from Sophia. But he continues.

"Additionally I'm not certain that you've told me everything. Obviously people can have sudden psychotic breaks, overnight changes. They can become entirely different in a matter of hours. I've seen it, down on the docks. Your mother did, too, with the Lustrum thing. But you and Emma were drifting apart for a while. So was Alan. This wasn't entirely overnight. So I think you know more than you're saying. And I think that yes, you're protecting her. I wouldn't do any different in your situation. But it's not healthy and it's not right."

I nod. "Constant bullying. Just little psychological and physical stuff. Her friend Madison Clements helped. But Madison wasn't there for the…the thing. It was really not her style."

Dad considers. "I imagine not. So it escalated suddenly, or what?" 

"There's a…" the journal names Sophia. Sophia, who I wanted to bring to justice. Sophia, who doesn't _need_ to have this awkward conversation with me to find out why I'm like this now. Sophia, who took my eye. Sophia, who k…well. 

"There's never a clear moment when you realize someone has changed, dad. You'd see it if it had happened with, say, me." I notice with cold horror that I'm copying the way Sophia used to talk to Gladly, the way she'd carry herself. It's not even conscious, but I respect my father's authority less than Gladly's now. "Mr G" shouldn't have noticed my personality gradually changing. Dad should have. He didn't. 

I bet if you took his eye…

And some thoughts can never be allowed to the conscious level. Because I haven't even talked to Sophia yet. I'm finding myself drifting toward a set of positions I imagine her holding, not ones I know she does. I want the person who took my eye to be a certain way, have a certain hard wisdom…and if I formalize this delusion by treating my father casually, even in my own heart, I may not be able to back out if this doesn't go my way. 

After all, if I decide I can't be her "friend" I'm not just going to take her eye. And I want my dad to be a sympathetic witness if that happens. 

"I suppose that's true. But did you see anyone else there? Hear them?" 

I act as if I'm trying to remember. Expending great effort. "No, I'm sorry, dad, I can't say that I remember if I did." 

He nods. "All right. We'll talk it over tomorrow maybe before you give your statement. It's getting late. Do you want me to sleep here, or what?" He wants to sleep here, clearly. 

"You can go home if you want." It's phrased as a suggestion, but… 

He sighs. "I'll pick up the phone if you decide you need me." 

"Thanks dad." I actually mean it. I'm so…confused that my default here is to push him away. In favor of fuck knows what. But it's kind of locked in now, and I can't really waste energy fighting it. 

*****

It's about an hour after he's gone home. I'm sitting alone watching TV. The evening news. Merchants this, PRT that, fallout from the Madison Simurgh attack, some new, stupid and terrible cape movie…oh, and the mutilation of an unnamed juvenile by local aspiring model and high school student Emma Barnes, currently in… 

The anchor looks off the screen for a moment and then back. "This just in, an update to the story I'm actually reporting on right now. Emma Barnes _was _in custody in Hale County Jail. However, an unknown assailant is believed to have killed her in her cell. She was found deceased at 9:18 PM tonight with puncture wounds to the neck. The investigation is ongoing."

I'm in shock. This definitely isn't suicide, and anyway she would have been under close surveillance, being in bad mental shape and all. Someone killed her. Someone killed my best friend. 

A black shadow moves through the wall by the head of my bed, coming up beside it. I start to cry out, or hit the call button perhaps, but the shadow disappears. It's Sophia. She climbs up on the bed with me and puts an arm around my shoulders. 

"The things I do for you."

The shadow lingers, gathering in my stomach like storm clouds. 

"Shadow Stalker, you need to get the _fuck _out of here." 

She shakes her head, putting a finger to my lips. "I said we'd talk. Smart detective skills though. But you can't ruin this. Not until you've heard me out." 

I'm shaking. I push her away. "I'll hear you out but don't touch me. You're fucking creeping me out." 

She nods, folding her arms and sitting cross legged on the bed next to me. "How's your night been?" 

I look at her, absolutely dumbfounded. "You just killed my best friend, how can you ask me something so _asinine_?" 

She cocks her head curiously. "Did I, really?" 

I consider this for a moment. "No, I guess you didn't. But I don't know if you even come close, like, you're the only person who's nice to me, and that's, that's…" I gesture somewhat futilely at my eye. Words just fail me. Mostly because I can't protect myself from her even if I wanted to. But also because I don't want to go on living if I lose her too. 

She nods. Merely listening. Maybe transfixed. 

"But I want you to be." 

She smiles at that. "I know you do. And I want to be too. But let me ask you something. You let me take the eye…why?" 

I'm taken aback. And I say as much, a wordless cry of outrage. "Let you?!" 

"I didn't realize Emma wasn't going to do it. I can't imagine proposing we do something so fucked up and then not following through. It isn't like I wanted to, but…I wanted to see what would happen. And letting her do it seemed different." She shrugged. "Like if I wasn't the one doing it I wasn't responsible for it." 

"You made it possible," I spit. "She was incapable of doing that herself. My dad and the cops are asking me about that, and I'm not telling them." 

"You should if you think it's right."

What. "What?!" 

"Yeah, Hebert, look, it's clear to me right now that how you think about strength and how I think about it are two different things. You're a warrior, though. A survivor. Live by your own code. Never met anyone else like that before, like me. So if I'm being weird…"

We were both being weird. "Welcome to the party, pal." 

She grins. "Oh my God. You like Die Hard too?" 

"Yup." I smile. "Mom and dad used to watch it every anniversary. It's a Christmas movie, she says, he disagrees. Well, she did say. Now she's dead." 

"Other way around here. Mom is an idiot. Falls for any dick with a penis that looks at her. Dad left her, because he sucks." 

I'm giggling. "Dick with a penis. Dear God, you sound like my mom used to." 

"Anyway, yes. If you want to turn me in turn me in. But you don't, do you?" 

"No. No I don't." My hand finds hers in the dark and squeezes. The shadow lengthens, my stomach turns, my heart burns. I don't know anymore. I don't want to know, simply to feel like I'm flying. The way I do now. Or is it "throwing myself at the ground and missing?" Never mind, those are the same thing. "But did you really…not want to?" 

She scoffs. "Taylor, I'm not out there fighting the gangs _my way_ because I'm actually in love with pointless violence. No matter what you think. But you…live by your own code. And I've never met anyone who showed me they were really like that before. People say it a lot, yes. You showed it, survivor. So I thought your code needed me to take it, maybe? And Emma, may she rot in hell, thought tormenting you would impress me. She was learning, doing so well, and then she pushed too hard and…it was pathetic. Did you know when I came up through the floor of her cell she pissed he…"

I put a hand over her mouth. "You did what you had to do. That doesn't mean I'm grateful, that doesn't mean I take any joy in it, and I sure as hell don't want to hear about it, all right?" 

She nods and I let go. "But could you kiss me next time?" 

"Oh my God. What the fuck is wrong with you? This isn't like that. It might never be like that. For one, I'm not…"

She grins fiendishly in the darkness. "I'm not either. Just you." 

I snort. "Yeah never heard that before. What, someone actually sympathizes with you when you feel like you're at your lowest and you fall in love with them?" 

  
She has to think about that for a second. "Yeah. I guess, yeah. I can see why you don't want to overanalyze that though."

I continue with my semi-affectionate tirade. "Like, your baseline for human connection is so fucked up from isolation that you interpret any attention, any human contact at all as…oh. Oh." 

I lean in and we kiss.

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

That night I dream of two lionesses hunting side by side. They're in an abandoned city, like Brockton Bay but not, up to their knees in water. They come upon an oil rig sitting in the middle of downtown like a parking garage, and there's a girl inside. My age, short hair, gaunt and emaciated. She's doing pills, and bugs flit around her. There's a pull from her to us, to the lionesses, but we resist it and gallop away. There's a field, we frolic, and as the night closes her warm arms around us I hear the hoot of an owl.  
  
I wake up. I'm still in the hospital. Dad isn't here. Sophia is gone. Thankfully, in both cases. I need to be alone. To process. To work through this. To figure out if I'm damned or just out an eye. What have I truly lost, what have I truly gained? Who the fuck am I and what the fuck is going on?  
  
I say a silent prayer. _Mom? What's wrong with me?_  
  
In the meantime, solitude. Blessed solitude. No Jane Austen though. I'm not feeling it, anyway. Who could have known Mr Darcy was like _this_?  
  
Aaaaand my solitude goes up in smoke as two BBPD officers come in the door. I can see why certain people like being able to just _poof_ through the floor or the wall. "Hello, Ms Hebert? I don't know if you were told, but we have some questions we need to ask you. First of all, the defendant in your case…"  
  
I wave him off. "Is dead, I know. She was at one time my dearest friend. Her name was Emma Barnes, not The Defendant In Your Case. And you want to know if she had help."  
  
The cop looks at me curiously, then makes a note in his field notebook. "And if you think it's possible, at all, that her accomplice had anything to do with her death."  
  
I scoff. "I'm no detective but it seems like those might be connected. I told my dad I didn't know if she had help, maybe he didn't get that relayed? So, officers, I'm gonna be real with you. I lost my eye last night, to the knife held by my _best friend. Who I still love. _I'm not really in a mood here to sit and solve your case for you. I want to think about what I've lost, and be sad, and eat banana pudding, this morning — vanilla last night, banana is _so _much better. And I want to practice watching TV with like, one fucking eye. I sent my dad home last night, and it wasn't because I would have rather talked to cops." I wonder if it was because I was expecting someone…and then decide to not poke at that too much in case it falls apart.  
  
The officer nods. He starts to speak, but I press the attack again — I'm beginning to enjoy these tirades, against the Lawfully Appointed Hand That Feeds, against dad, against Sophia. Beginning to get real fucking high on just…lashing out. On being in control. "Officers, it is my understanding that Emma confessed entirely. You had her in custody and a confession. Now I know how it works here in the Bay. You won't hardly lift a finger with less than that. So coming out here to solve a case is not about what _I _want. Say, hypothetically, and I'm not saying this is true, that I lost my eye in a case of kink gone wrong. I'm fifteen, not illiterate. You can read about that online. Happens all the time. So in this scenario I loved Emma, and she hurt me, and now she's dead, and you're digging up trauma. Why? Does this help me as your victim, to harass me when there's no perp left alive and I have no interest in helping you find the accomplices?" I'm coming dangerously close to outing Sophia. Like there's a truth I want to tell. But I don't, do I?  
  
The officer nods, making more notes. "Have a nice day, Ms Hebert. We're sorry to have bothered you."  
  
I grin to myself. Damn, this is fun. I actually feel vindicated. Maybe things get better now that I have one eye and a psycho girlfriend.  
  
I fall asleep, having processed nothing and gained only rage and exhaustion.  
  
In my dream this time, two figures wear hazmat suits as they navigate the uncomfortably hot belly of a nuclear reactor. It's going critical. They navigate deeper toward the core, trying desperately to accomplish some task — it should be shutting it down, but my half lucid "narration" tells me it's not. Two other figures, the redhead with dead eyes and a small, middling girl whose face I can't even recall as I see it, much less on waking, emerge from the shadows. The ginger tears a clipboard from one figure's hand and throws it into a small fire that's started nearby. The other…thing, the phantom, pulls out a canteen and throws it onto the same figure. It's juice. The canteen has fucking juice in it.  
  
I begin to think this is absurd, but it gets better. The two figures are in the core. The redhead, the phantom, and a number of adults, including a bored and sad-looking man with thinning hair, are closing the sarcophagus around them. Containment. It looks like a high school locker more than a real reactor sarcophagus — I've seen images from Three Mile Island, and read about the Chernobyl failure before it was part of the Sleeper Containment Zone. It smells like rot and blood. There's a thrum like angry hornets.  
  
The first figure takes her helmet off. She's white, female, missing her left eye. The second does the same. She's black, also female, missing her right. They lock gazes, as if exchanging some deep secret. Then they kiss.  
  
I wake. Panting, crying out. Covered in sweat. Dad looks at me sadly. "Are you getting any peaceful sleep at all?"  
  
Maybe I would if she held me. But I say simply, "I'm not sure."  
  
He nods. "I stayed away. Thought you wanted me to."  
  
I'm crying softly. "Needed to be alone. To try to work through this."  
  
He says something that is more insightful and understanding than I've ever known my father to be. "Taylor, when it comes to your suffering all of us are blind right now, until you tell us. And in the land of the blind the one eyed girl is queen."  
  
I smile. "Maybe when your queen has something to tell you she will, brave sir Dad."  
  
He nods. "You are actually grieving your eye. You're handling this grief much more like I did, last time."  
  
I suppose I am. Anger is a big part of grief, and I remember reading (in one of mom's books, ironically enough), that you don't go through all the stages in order. You go through them concurrently in many cases, even three or four at a time. This seems about right. "Also probably Emma," I mutter into my pillow.  
  
"Also probably what?" Dad smiles. He must think he's making progress, and as much as I want to lash out I feel bad for him too.  
  
"Also. Probably. Em MA." I smile, making it clear my anger isn't like, really real. Not this time.  
  
"You heard then."  
  
"Dad, the Emma I knew died long before last night. But yes. I heard. BBPD was here and I told them I didn't want to talk about it. Any of it. So can we respect that and let me do this my way, please?"  
  
He strokes his beard. "Yes, I suppose we can. Whatever you need. I love you, you know."  
  
"At least someone does," I say into the pillow.  
  
He clearly heard me this time, as he simply pats me on the shoulder and sits back down. We pass time like this, quietly. I realize I'm waiting for her, and I also realize I can't sleep again. It'll just be more of…that shit.  
  
This is going to be hard. But two people believe in my capability as a _survivor. _One of them is me.  
  
*****  
  
"Ms Hebert, have you picked out a patch you like?" Dr Wilkes is so nice. He's actually a breath of fresh air. Someone cares, someone is competent…someone respects my decision to hurt. I've needed all three for so long. And I'm not even sure Sophia delivers on number three. She thinks she does. But she doesn't know me yet. Does she?  
  
"Yeah, I want one of these badass looking carbon fiber ones. It's not that much more than the actual hospital bill, is it? Like I can't see it making a difference if we can't pay for the bill anyway, right?"  
  
He regards me seriously. "Ms Hebert, money is no object. In this case I will pay for it out of pocket. Give me one hour to have it taken out of storage down at the pharmacy. I want you to be able to eat dinner at home tonight."  
  
I grin widely. Then I realize I've been starving myself except for pudding. Damn, I have work to do. "Thanks," I say simply.  
  
In an hour, he's back, and so is Dad. Dad looks on proudly, and another set of hands touch my face. The bandage slowly, gently peels off. There's no light. I expect light. What there _is_ is there's a brush of cool air against the shadow. It's then that I notice that while I don't have _vision _with that eye, it's…perceiving something. I could see Sophia in the dark, I realize. I could intuit the weaknesses of everyone around me. Not their actual weaknesses like their secrets or faults, but the best way to press the attack in a given situation.  
  
And the reason I'm thinking this is because I feel such relief, to look at Wilkes and realize that my left eye doesn't see him at all. He has none. There is no advantage I wish to gain. And maybe he's truly impeccable.  
  
And I do have powers now. It hurt that bad. This sucks, but it isn't entirely a downside. It's just that…my left eye sees shadow. My left eye sees _in_ shadow. And in my darkest hour, only the shadow knows who I truly am…  
  
She took the eye fair and square.  
  
Wilkes fastens the band of the patch around my head, and pulls it down over my eye. "Get me a mirror. I wanna see if I look as badass as I feel."  
  
"Oh, you do." Wilkes holds up a hand mirror.  
  
He's right. I absolutely fucking do. If only my badass looking self had a ruthless killer to be femme fatale lovers with…oh wait, that's _right_, I do!  
  
"Well I suppose everything has its upsides, right?"  
  
"It would seem you've found yours. When I had men with this kind of disfiguring wound, I told them that finding _their_ upside was the only way to survive. It's your trauma. Don't let anyone tell you how best to own it."  
  
"Yes sir." I give him a salute.  
  
Dad is beaming. "It's so nice to see someone processing things well around here. Your mother would be proud. She was always the resilient one."  
  
I shake my head. "You and I are a lot alike, dad. You're doing okay too, in your own way."  
  
Wilkes looks to dad, now. "I'll start on the young lady's discharge paperwork if you like?"  
  
Dad smiles. "I think we'd both like that." He considers something for a moment. "Taylor, what are your plans for school on Monday? How do you want to handle that?"  
  
"A week ago I wanted to drop out. But everything I was afraid of is either dead or as bad as it can get. Let's storm the castle."  
  
Wilkes looks at me in surprise. "Well. That's an unexpected development. I can't say I advise against it, but most people are not ready to reenter a traumatic situation so soon, despite the changes in circumstance."  
  
"I've _won_. I don't care if it's traumatic anymore."  
  
He regards me for a long moment. Then without a word, he turns and heads out to do the paperwork.  
  
*****  
  
The following Monday, on a sudden impulse, I get up to go for a run. It's early February, so it's cold. But I need to harden up. As I race through the streets, I decide to angle outward. Daring myself, I run all the way to school. And the other students are there, outside, waiting for the bell to ring. Milling about in the cold. Socializing.  
  
Normally I would be afraid to join them. But one of my bullies is dead, and the other is…well, she's not here yet. I'm still debating how I'm going to greet her. What kind of reaction I want. How much I want to _crow _about this victory that still feels…unholy, but in a good way? I don't understand it fully yet. Which is why I decide to let impulse guide me.  
  
There's a wave of shocked murmurs running through the other students when I run up. Like a burst, almost. I can feel it spread from a center point — Madison and Julia. Neither of them were informed about the little stunt Emma pulled, obviously. Well, they'll shit themselves when they see how Sophia and I beat her at her own game.  
  
Greg is hanging on to them like a little tick or something, hoping to soak up their relative mediocrity and gain in the exchange. He looks at me and gasps. "Holy shit! Punished Taylor!"  
  
"Punished? What?" I stifle a laugh. The kid is so fucking weird, okay.  
  
"It's from a video game. There's this character, he's an incredible badass, and when he loses an eye he's like, even more badass, and he's called Punished Snake instead of Solid Snake."  
  
"Punished how though? Oh, never mind. It kinda fits. So I take it you approve?"  
  
"I do ma'am."  
  
Ma'am? Is he hitting on me in some incredibly weird Greg way? "So you didn't hear how I lost it."  
  
"No? Do you want to talk about it? _Can_ you talk about it? Like if you lost it doing Solid Snake stuff it's probably top secret."  
  
I laugh. "It was on the news, Greg. I'm sure you'll find out sooner or later. Maybe there'll be an announcement today. I don't know. No one pays attention to me around here, why start now?"  
  
Madison suddenly gets a horrified look as she puts two and two together. Greg, meanwhile, is nobly oblivious as his one eyed monster pursues another one eyed monster. "Haha I know, right? It's all fun and games until somebody loses an eye."  
  
I chuckle, totally unfazed. I actually lost an eye. He's just talking. I can't be harmed by it. Madison however visibly shits an entire brick. "What the _fuck, _Veder?" She steps forward. "This is how Emma got herself in jail, isn't it? Where she…"  
  
"Died, Clements. She's yesterday's goddamn news and if you have any brains you'll be too. I saved Taylor. From her." Sophia sidles up to me, strutting like a gunfighter. And realizing how different the dynamic is, I decide to blow the entire Popsicle stand. In one smooth motion, I take her offered hand, lean in, and kiss her.  
  
I repeat. I kiss Sophia Hess. In front of Clements and Veder. It's like I'm possessed by an entirely better, truer, purer me.  
  
Madison is totally speechless. I turn to her, still entangled with my lover, and grin. "Nothing like being kidnapped at knife point to find out who your real friends are."  
  
She gives a demure wave with her hand, as if dismissing the concept entirely. Then the worst imitation of Emma I've ever seen warps her nothing parasite face into a sneer, and she says, "I told both of them your insanity would be contagious in the end."  
  
Sophia snarls, and she's about to follow her back into the crowd. I grab her and hold her close, kissing her again. Then I whisper harshly in her ear. "I don't need any more bodies over this shit, Hess."  
  
She nods. Submissively? No. I'm misreading this. I have to be. "Sure thing, boss." Oh God. I'm not.  
  
"But." She grins conspiratorially, breath shining in the February sunlight. "If you ever need one I might have to teach you to DIY."  
  
I realize how much I've changed, because I'm a hundred percent okay with that actually. If it's ever needed I'll absolutely do it myself.  
  
What I didn't know then is that this would be sooner than I wanted it to be.  
  
*****  
  
My first indication that the next bad part is bearing down on me is Tuesday night. Monday was dreamless beauty sleep. The first I've had in a long time. Tuesday? Not so much.  
  
Dead eyes red hair is about eight years old, sitting at the kitchen table and coloring. She's got some kind of bug themed villain, and she's coloring her in black and gray. Angrily breaking off the ends of her crayons and throwing them at the wall. Her mom is watching, amused. Except dead eyes red hair's mom is…my mom. Even in the dream I know it should be someone else but I won't let myself admit who.  
  
And her dad is…tall, barrel chested and black. Like my mental image of a football player. "Well, I've got to get to work," he says. He picks up a briefcase, kisses...the mom...and the room floods with thick, wet darkness that has the outward appearance of smoke but feels like a wet blanket. There's an incredible heat, and a loud beeping like a smoke alarm only…harder. More intense. And her mother's eye pops out wetly. A large beetle crawls from within her skull onto the table. The girl eats it and looks at…me. "Atlas shrugs," she says in a voice far too eloquent for her age. "And God turns his face away. But you, o Sisyphus, are you happy?"  
  
I wake up and spend the next hour bent over the toilet. I'll skip breakfast today. I'll even try to make it to…nope. But I don't have her _phone number, _dammit. I need her. I was with her yesterday and we'd won, and I didn't dream that stupid shit at all! I need her so much.  
  
She's clearly skipped school, because at 10:39 AM sharp she phases in through the kitchen window, and I realize that I need her an awful lot, but I don't want her.  
  
"Come on," she says. "I know you triggered, but even if you didn't you'd be fine. We're gonna go do cape shit!"  
  
It's only after about a minute that I realize I've been hyperventilating and nearly whited out. "Hey. Taylor. It's okay, it's okay. I don't know what's going on, baby. Tell me and I'll fix it."  
  
She's holding me so close and I feel so unworthy and so gross and I say  
  
"Can you just hold me?"  
  
She nods. I feel pathetic and weak but I feel loved and I dare to challenge her  
  
"until after dad gets home?"  
  
She understands what I mean immediately. She's still holding me, but she says "I'm not sure how I feel about meeting your dad just yet, babe."  
  
I glare angrily at the wall behind her. "I hate you sometimes."  
  
She sighs contentedly. "Me too, lover. Me too." It takes me five minutes of being contented and warm and _held_ to realize I don't know if she meant she hates me too or she hates her too. Probably both.  
  
Which is fine. I do too.  
  
She kisses my neck. "We could, you know…" Her hand moves lower, toward my stomach.  
  
I push her away, smiling gently. "No. Again, what the fuck is wrong with you? Do you not know how to just be in love with someone in a healthy way?"  
  
She shrugs broadly. "Do either of us? Does anyone?"  
  
"Well I like to think someone's doing it better than us."  
  
"I don't," Sophia says. "Besides, it's not like the idea actually upsets you."  
  
That's probably because I've lost my capacity both to evaluate this objectively and to consent to it freely by this point. But right or wrong we're in this together. And I tell her as much. She nods.  
  
I initiate another kiss. I need this as much as she does, and it's starting to hit me just how much she needs it. "I'll try your stupid cape stuff tomorrow, kitten," I whisper, injecting breath into my voice like rum into coke.  
  
"Yes miss," she squeaks. "Thank you."  
  
Wednesday is dedicated to one eyed gods of battle and secrecy and struggle. And I don't know it yet, but Wednesday is the day I cross all the lines. Wednesday is the day I never get back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The parents are met. No sex is had. Maybe there's a new chapter here and not on SB? Comment if you'd be interested! :p

We are…less publicly showy than we were on Monday. Maybe I'm more comfortable with the relationship. Maybe we've made our point. Madison (she has a name, she's not Little Miss Nothing) and Julia are conspiring, trying to gin up a whisper campaign. I don't think that'll end well for her. But we sit alone at lunch and glower at the room, holding hands as we do so. I should feel like I'm Emma, now. But I don't. Because I'm not acting the way Emma would act and Sophia isn't acting like Emma's Sophia. She's acting like Taylor's Sophia. I occasionally detect a different emotion in her longing gaze — during math class she seems regretful of something or other. I can only guess what. Certainly it's not how we met, is it? 

And after class we silently run together, fast and far, a few blocks to the edge of ABB territory. Then we kiss again. I pant. "Cape stuff."

She nods, grinning. "Cape stuff. Now that there's two of us…wait, you're not joining the Wards or going hero on me are you?" 

"Whither thou goest, I goest, kitten." 

She salutes. "Yes miss. So now that there's two of us we can start real work. Some of these fuckers need to be killed. You know that right?" 

"Suppose I've never thought about it. Dad says you're wanted for murder?" 

"Just normals. The two of us though…well, let's just say we're not over at E88 territory because I don't want too many people gunning for both of us yet."

"Are we going to, uh —" I stumble over the words, over the very  _ concept _ "—kill someone today?" 

"If the impulse strikes milady she may. I don't know if you have an offensive power, so I brought this." She presses hard plastic into my hand. I look down. It's a gun. A fucking gun.

"Jesus Christ Sophia, what the fuck."

"A Sig P229 Legion, that's what the fuck. No safety. Hammer is here. Flip it down to get a lighter trigger pull. Or you can just shoot it as is. When it's gone off once, though, hammer will be down every time. Nine millimeter, so a light kick. It'll still fuck someone up."

"That's not what I asked, but okay." I'm already experimentally toying with the sights, squinting. Feeling the gun up a bit. "If I just start shooting cans we'll get arrested or worse, you know." 

She grins madly. "Deep end, bitch. You need to fire that today it's going to be for keeps."

I stare. "You...you want me corrupted. You want to own my morality, my course as a parahuman."

Her hand brushes my eyepatch, and I should push her away but she's made her point. She leans in close. "I don't want to. But I already do." 

"I could just shoot you, you know. In the back or something."

She's ahead of me though, and vertigo returns. "And that's entirely your right if that's something you want to do. It's one reason I brought that for you."

I place my finger on the trigger experimentally. Lift the gun, almost point it at her. So easy…

"Huh." 

She nods. "Huh."

And we understand each other again. "Well let's go find out if I have an offensive power too."

She punches my shoulder, in a motion and with force exactly like one she used to use when Emma was still part of our group. It feels different though. Or does it? I can't even begin to guess. "That's my girl!" 

The words echo in my head as we go out looking for trouble.  _ No safety no safety no safety  _ And this is where she wants me. She is my only safety. And it begins to occur to me, little subtextual clues in her behavior. I'm her only safety too. She's not so much contrite as…clearly she crossed a line. She's willing to accept my judgment on what ought to be done with her. 

What does it say about me that I'm kind of excited about the idea of killing someone? But that that someone is definitely not her? 

My shadow eye sees movement and I grab her shoulder. "Up ahead. Threat."

"Good call, Hebert. I'll take point. You be careful now. You don't know if you have an offensive power, if it's ranged or what."

"I don't even know how to fight."

She nods soberly. "Right. So hang back and only use that thing if you have to."

The shadow goes off like a bomb in the cold pit of my stomach. She's trying to leave me with no choice: either display my offensive power or be killed, or or or 

_ It's so heavy in my palm  _

It's obvious to me now why I was freaking out yesterday. I should have just told her I wanted to stay in and fuck…

Wait. How much of this is her playing "fuck or kill", trying to get me to cross one line or another? I don't know. I feel vigilant, but my thoughts seem paranoid. I no longer know up from down, right from wrong 

_ Kill from fuck  _

_ Hate from love  _

I am hers. She is mine. This is all I need to know. All I want to have to know. 

The threat rounds the corner. It's two ABB toughs, both visibly packing in their waistbands. My gun is up before I know how to react, but Sophia knocks it out of my hand as she emerges from the alley in shadow form. Her crossbow lances out, taking one thug down. The other is on top of me, and I can't reach the gun…

_ why did she do that why did she do that why did she  _

_ SHLIK _

I feel a bright warm wet on my winter coat. Hear his cry of pain, mellow and muted like a jazz trumpet solo. I look and see a black obsidian shadow in the form of a blade, coming out the other side. I push him off me and realize as the cut lengthens that it's attached to my arm. 

She adds a triumphant crow to the emotional dissonance, the threnodic symphony. Who knew murder could be so synesthetic? "Hell yeah! You came through, I knew you would!" 

I dimly recognize that my powers are informed by hers. It makes sense, I guess. Without her I wouldn't have any in the first place. When I snap back to full awareness I'm holding the gun again. I've got her in the glowing green sights. My finger is on the trigger. "What's one more," I hear myself say. 

"That's a good question, you know?" She's nonchalant. Almost cold. 

"You made me this way." 

She nods. "It seems, Hebert, that I did. So go ahead. Undo what I did. What's one more?" 

I shake my head softly. The gun lowers. "It's one more too many for today. And you would be one more too many for…forever. Hold me." 

She does. "I'm always here for you, boss. I promise. I don't know what I was doing. I didn't mean to…no I did. I wanted someone else like me. But I shouldn't have, I'm sorry." 

I push her far enough away from me that she can see what I'm hoping is a sincere and loving gaze. She flinches from it, though, and it seems that she may not be any better a judge of facial expressions than I am. Between us it's enough, though. "Now look, Hess. I don't want to go through this alone either. So I understand why you don't. It doesn't matter to me, at all, anymore, if you put me there or not. If we're going to hell together then that's where we're going to go. Together, understand?" 

She nods, and I realize she's crying. "Yes, miss." 

"Now we've had enough mayhem for one day. Let's go home."

She nods. "What if your dad…" 

I bark out a brittle laugh. "I'll just tell him I killed someone with my superpowers. That'll soften the next blow real good."

She considers. "I guess it might." I'm not sure she understood the sarcasm there, but okay. We are a work in progress. It'll be all right. 

I take her to bed. We remain, for now, fully clothed — I reason to myself that whatever lines we've crossed together, doing all of  _ that _ is an afterthought, and it should remain so. Instead, we sleep, and I need it. I need sleep more than her, especially because every time she and I interact I'm more fatigued, more drained, more exhausted, more soul-tired. I want to die, I think, as I drift off to sleep. But kitten didn't let me. Kitten needed a miss. The jaguar needed a leash. If she didn't she would have done it herself, and where would she be now? 

I yawn one last time, wrapping my arms around her. I hate the dreams. But here they come. 

_ I'm looking down at a black girl with silver-gray armor, the gun in my hand. My hat is cocked at a rakish angle, not because I want it to be but because I've been running. Chasing. Catching.  _

_ She's looking up at me. Blubbering. Pleading. "If I could do it over — would have done different."  _

_ "Done what different, pet?"  _

_ "not…locker. Realize looking back, love her. Always did. She's better'n me."  _

_ "You should have thought about that before you did that to her, then." _

_ The Sig P229 Legion kicks like an angry mare. There's blood everywhere. I'm not sated, not healed, it hasn't made it better at all. _

_ "Door, hell." A golden portal opens to a red and burning volcanic plain, and I hear the roar of a thousand angry bees… _

"Taylor, wake up! Wake up!" 

"Bwuh?" Oh. It's Sophia. In my bed. Wait, did we? No, thank God. We didn't. I remember now. "Everything okay?" 

"Your dad's home. Downstairs. What do I do?" 

I mentioned that Wednesday was the day I never get back. I didn't say why yet. "Well, I guess now is as good a time as any," I say. And my doom is sealed. 

I'm still hazy and heavy. Still asleep. I trudge down the stairs like a condemned prisoner. I keep thinking there's something wrong with me, with my choices...and I just want her to hold me, every time I think that. I don't want to think about it. I would literally rather die. 

_ And she would…wait, would she?  _

It's somewhat horrifying to realize that she loves me more than I do. And it gives me the fortitude to come downstairs and pull the pin. 

"Dad." 

He looks up from a book he's reading. He's got lunch, microwaved leftovers. "You don't nap often. Everything okay, honey?" 

I smile, folding my hands awkwardly in front of me. "I have a girlfriend. She was over, and we…napped. It's all we did, honest."

He raises an eyebrow. "Really."

I blush. "Daaaadddddd…" 

"I suppose you wouldn't lie. And it doesn't matter if you did. It's your relationship, not mine. Can I meet her?" 

I smile. "Sure."

Hearing this, Emma's killer, who took my eye (excuse me, my lover Sophia) pokes her head out from behind the stairwell. "Hi, Mr Hebert. I'm Sophia." 

He smiles. "Great to meet you. I did not know Taylor was into girls."

I shake my head. "I'm just into her. She understands what happened to me and we get along well because of that." 

He pauses, then nods. "I see."

Sophia sits down. "She's helped me to understand some things about myself, too. I'm glad to have met her."

"Well, you two sound great for each other. I'm glad."

"Oh, trust me, dad, you have  _ no _ idea." I suddenly want to throw up. The eye I don't have anymore is throbbing violently. 

Sophia nods, quite seriously. "Losing her would kill me."

Dad smiles. "Very serious stuff, then."

I reach for her hand and squeeze. "It is."

He considers for a brief moment. "I hope you don't outgrow it. Sometimes very serious things when you're fifteen can look very different when you're thirty." 

She squeezes my hand harder. "I hope it's not like that, sir." 

  
  


"I always imagined it would be a boy. And I always felt comfortable telling a boy what the consequences would be if he hurt her. I'm not sure how to handle that with a girl…?" 

I laugh. I hope Dad can't hear the bitter sound of it. "Oh, you do not have to worry about that at all. You can be sure of that."

He looks at me somewhat skeptically. "I hope I can."

I nod astutely. "If she gets out of line I'll handle her myself." She squeezes my hand, but it's a question. A search for assurance. I squeeze back. It's a promise. And it's one I know I have to keep if I'm to survive all of this.

Dad thinks for a second. "I don't want to regret this but I have a feeling it's the right thing to do. I am going…out. I will return after midnight tonight. You two have the house to yourselves."

"...what." Unison between our voices will never stop scaring me. 

"I said what I said. What you do with it is up to you."

"Ew." I shake my head. "Dad!" 

Sophia makes a shushing motion. "It's not like you'll get pregnant. Just chill and let's enjoy the afternoon. Thanks, Mr Hebert!" She grins. 

I groan. Dad, meanwhile, laughs. Then he's got his coat on and he's out the door. And it slams and it clicks and it's locked. And I'm alone. With her. 

And she's across the room in those propulsive motions I fear that I learned to love and she's on top of me and she's kissing me and her hand is down my pants gripping something firmly and she pulls away and I'm gasping for breath and 

She tosses the P229 onto the couch next to me. She takes my hand. She places it on the grip and curls my fingers around it. I lean up to kiss her again but she pulls away. 

"We need to talk," she says. I just stare vacantly, mumbling something like assent. She forges on. "You don't want to be here. You regret what I did and you regret letting me do  _ more _ and you can't imagine actually loving me, because I am such a  _ FUCK  _ and…"

She takes a breath. "I don't deserve you. I don't deserve happiness, I don't deserve escape, and I don't deserve forgiveness. I don't even deserve kindness. I'm an evil, evil person. Selfish and violent and I took your eye just to prove I could. And I felt so guilty about it I thought if you loved me and I loved you it would make it okay…"

I raise a hand to stop this confessional torrent. "My mother used to say love is a choice."

She nods. "I didn't want to do what we did. Her other idea was to steal your mom's flute and…"

I make a sharp cutting motion with my hand. "Shush, kit." 

"And I wish we had." 

"I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP!" I suck in a ragged breath. "If you'd have done something that harmful this wouldn't be happening." 

She nods silently. She's not crying, but I slowly realize I have been. I level the gun at her head. "Now. As I said before. My mother said love is a choice. And I know what you want me to do. I'm not sure it would be the wrong choice. I'm really not. I almost  _ want to _ , and that terrifies me." 

She looks down at the floor, kneeling. "Yes miss." 

I sigh. "So take your clothes off and let me choose. Me, not you. Do things my way for once." 

She looks up at me smiling like a saint, and begins to thumb her top off. My breath catches in my throat. "Yes miss."

I thumb the hammer back. I'm smiling, but the muzzle is pressed against her forehead. "Good girl."

And I can't tell…is my breath just beyond reach because she's beautiful, or because I'm horrified? Something becomes clear, though. Something I didn't want. 

This isn't the first time I've dissociated around her. And it won't be the last. Because it feels like I'm in control. 


	4. AO3 SPECIAL CHAPTER -- EXPLICIT -- READ AT OWN RISK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have absolutely no idea how to tag this separately and connect it to the main work. So a disclaimer will have to do. The character beats from this chapter will be reproduced in SFW form for SB and added here later, but this is *it* for now. A sexually explicit continuation of the fic so far, with everything that implies.
> 
> Two words: underage gunplay. Dead dove and all that. But you love this shit, or you wouldn't be here. <3

Her shirt is completely off now. My brain has vacated, as I realize she doesn't wear a bra. Her nipples are perky and pink, her areolas a dark brown against the chocolate of her skin. I'm breathing hard. Panting even. 

"Pants, kitten, now."

She whimpers and gasps. "Yes, miss. Yes." Off they come, and I'm jealous of her muscular runner's thighs, her piston like calves. She stays kneeling, legs splayed out underneath her…mound accentuated by the shape of her body. A peak surrounded by a small forest. Mine. I own this. It hurt me, I could hurt it back. 

"Open your mouth."

She nods, parting her lips. I slide the pistol gently between her teeth. "Suck, kitten." 

She does, and I unzip my pants, pulling my panties aside and playing with myself. Taking great care to keep my finger away from the trigger. 

_ For now.  _

I remove my finger, and place my hand alongside her cheek. Cupping her face. "Does it taste good, kitten?" 

She nods, mumbling something that sounds like assent. 

I smile. "Good. Touch me with your hands, please." 

She nods, and long slender fingers find my vulva. I'm not nearly as hairy, nor is my mound as puffy. I feel inadequate, but her hands dispel this. The rhythm of her fingers. The beauty of her tears as she sucks on the barrel of the gun. 

I still don't know what I'm going to do about that yet.

"Oh. Wow. I'm your first, right kitten?" 

She sobs and motions for me to let her speak. I remove the gun and rest it on her shoulder. She shivers under the cold metal, and her voice is very small. "I have one of these too."

I nod. "So you do, kitten. So you do." I gasp again. "Your mouth. NOW." 

She needs no further encouragement, tongue and lips working like a hungry kitten and a bowl of milk. I put the pistol to her temple. My hips buck but the pistol stays level, solid. "You don't know what I'm going to do with this yet, do you?" 

She shakes her head, cupping her palm around my nonexistent ass. 

I smile. "That's all right. Neither do I. FINGER, NOW."

She doesn't have to ask for clarification. A pointer finger shoots out from that palm and disappears into my, uh, brown eye. I guess I still have two of 'em, then. God DAMN she feels so good. I'm so glad for her. 

"I hate you, Sophia. I fucking hate you." 

She shakes her head, sobbing and licking. My thighs are wet with juices, spit and tears. I'm still dissociating enough for this demon thing inside me to say what I really mean and express how I really feel. And I'm so close, so close to being okay…

"I. Fucking. HATE YOU!!!!" I scream. My hips shudder and buck, I grab her hair and yank it. She's kissing me softly and sobbing, aware that I've come. But while I've come I haven't  _ finished _ . "You ruined my fucking LIFE! Don't stop now you bitch!!!!" 

She nods, attaching her lips to my clit and sucking like a vacuum. I nearly pass out, gushing all over her. "All right, kitten. Mama's satisfied for now." 

She pulls back and looks up at me prayerfully. I smile and pat her on the head. "I've decided what I'm going to do." 

"Y-you have?" She's afraid of me now, not that she ever really  _ stopped. _ It begins to dawn on me that I probably just raped her. Don't care. She's got this coming. 

"I have. Please walk on your knees and face the wall over there."

"Yes ma'am. I deserve this, I'm so sorry…"

I make a small grunt to affirm this. "But you made me happy and that's what counts. For a moment you were who you ought to be, instead of the evil rotten fuck you are." 

"Yes miss. Am I far enough now?" 

She's leaning her head against the wall. I'll just explain this to Dad as some kind of accident, maybe move the TV before he gets here. "Yes. Yes you are." 

I close my physical eye and aim just above the head of the shadowy figure my eye evolved to see. The only threat to me there will ever be. The only threat I will ever allow. The only wicked and hateful thing to me, the thing I must keep close. And I fire. The bullet almost grazes the top of her head. She's whimpering, and I move closer. 

This has to be done right. She has to be taught the ground rules. I aim to the left of her head, keeping my eye closed. I fire, and the bullet impacts three inches to the left of the tip of her ear. Almost instantly I take a giant step forward, move my arm smoothly, and put another bullet  _ one _ inch to the right of her right ear. 

Then I'm kneeling down behind her, stroking her hair and embracing her as she just  _ ugly cries _ her ugly soul out to me. "There, there, pet. Did you ever think I would let you come to harm?" 

She wails. "I wasn't  _ sure!!! _ " 

"You never will be, kitten. But you needn't worry. It's my decision, isn't it?" 

"Yes it is, Ste…ma'am. Ma'am! Oh God! Oh God please…."

"What was that? Hm? You almost called me something new." 

She's wailing almost continuously now, and I can't see her with my dark eye anymore. The threat is gone. "Please…please don't ask! I'll tell you later, just please no please no please no I'll be good…"

And the release in my soul isn't merely sexual. Unexpectedly, I'm finally satisfied. Finally at peace. I don't know how. But I've broken Sophia Hess so thoroughly that if I weren't this monster version of me it would turn my stomach. 

And since I broke it, I've bought it. She will never leave. No one understands her as well as I do. This makes me happy. 

_ Finally, we're working together.  _


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regular SFW-but-still-extremely-fucked programming resumes, as we battle a familiar foe alongside our truest friend...

"I hate you, Sophia. I fucking hate you." 

She shakes her head, sobbing, arms wrapped around my hips and clinging for dear life. She's in love with me, she's afraid of me — but I'm still dissociating enough for this demon thing inside me to say what I really mean and express how I really feel. And I'm so close, so close to being okay…

"I. Fucking. HATE YOU!!!!" I scream. My body shudders with the intensity of the emotion. I grab her hair and yank it. She's kissing me softly and sobbing, aware that I'm finally slowing down my rampage. But I haven't  _ finished _ . "You ruined my fucking LIFE! Don't stop now you bitch!!!!" I gasp softly, finally relaxing enough to just…let go. I'm drifting in space, weightless. Aching and angry, still, but ecstatic. At peace in many ways. At war in others. This will never end. Not as long as I have her, thankfully. 

She pulls back and looks up at me prayerfully. I smile and pat her on the head, hefting the pistol and giving it a knowing glance. "I've decided what I'm going to do." 

"Y-you have?" She's afraid of me now, not that she ever really  _ stopped. _ Don't care. She's got this coming. 

"I have. Please walk on your knees and face the wall over there."

"Yes ma'am. I deserve this, I'm so sorry…"

I make a small grunt to affirm this. "But you made me happy and that's what counts. For a moment you were who you ought to be, instead of the evil rotten fuck you are." 

"Yes miss. Am I far enough now?" 

She's leaning her head against the wall. I'll just explain this to dad as some kind of accident, maybe move the TV before he gets here. "Yes. Yes you are." 

I close my physical eye and aim just above the head of the shadowy figure my eye evolved to see. The only threat to me there will ever be. The only threat I will ever allow. The only wicked and hateful thing to me, the thing I must keep close. And I fire. The bullet almost grazes the top of her head. She's whimpering, and I move closer. 

This has to be done right. She has to be taught the ground rules. I aim to the left of her head, keeping my eye closed. I fire, and the bullet impacts three inches to the left of the tip of her ear. Almost instantly I take a giant step forward, move my arm smoothly, and put another bullet  _ one _ inch to the right of her right ear. 

Then I'm kneeling down behind her, stroking her hair and embracing her as she just  _ ugly cries _ her ugly soul out to me. "There, there, pet. Did you ever think I would let you come to harm?" 

She wails. "I wasn't  _ sure!!! _ " 

"You never will be, kitten. But you needn't worry. It's my decision, isn't it?" 

"Yes it is, Ste…ma'am. Ma'am! Oh God! Oh God please…."

"What was that? Hm? You almost called me something new." 

She's wailing almost continuously now, and I can't see her with my dark eye anymore. The threat is gone. "Please…please don't ask! I'll tell you later, just please no please no please no I'll be good…"

And the release in my soul isn't merely sexual. Unexpectedly, I'm finally satisfied. Finally at peace. I don't know how. But I've broken Sophia Hess so thoroughly that if I weren't this monster version of me it would turn my stomach. 

And since I broke it, I've bought it. She will never leave. No one understands her as well as I do. This makes me happy. 

_ Finally, we're working together.  _

We sleep, again. Laying there splayed out over each other on the floor, exhausted. Fever dreams. Visions. Hatred. Again and again, over and over, they simply will not leave my mind. 

I'm an innocent girl. I think I've seen her before. Small, scared, hair matted, eyes sunken. Track marks up and down my arms. I look up into the eyes of an older woman next to me, and she's smiling, looking down at me. It's me. I look like mom…

"Pet, you've done well. You're making excellent bait for her. Soon we'll have her right where we need her."

My lip quivers. "But I love her." 

"That doesn't matter. It's what has to happen."

I nod and sigh sadly. "I know." 

Sophia fades through the wall, leveling the Sig at the older me. "Let her go," she screams, heartfelt and feral. 

"Not hardly,  _ pet _ ," snarls the older me. The beast, the demon. There's chunks of…I can't tell, sticking out of her eye. Is it a flute or a gearshift? She's bleeding, and the wound also emits some kind of glossy, clear fluid. "You wanted me to have her, at first." 

"I changed my mind," Sophia says weakly. But she's lost all conviction. 

"Too bad," Mom says. I can't wake up, and I watch as Sophia squeezes the trigger. I jump up from the chair, head swimming, and I get in front of her just in time…

The bullets impact my head, cratering my temple. I crumple, bleeding, brain damaged, mind slipping. And I can't help but watch, as  _ Sophia Hess and my mother begin to make out over my dying body… _

There's a whimpering whine so loud it wakes me up. Sophia kneels next to me, hand in mine, a ratty old T-shirt she found somewhere covering her upper body. There's a cup of tea next to her. She hands it to me. "You woke yourself up again," she says. 

I sit up and begin to sip the tea. "Thanks," I offer weakly. 

She shakes her head. "Think nothing of it. I would do  _ anything  _ for you, Taylor."

"Even after…"

She nods. "Yep. What I did to you — I was desperate and confused. Doesn't matter why. But because I did it, we're stuck together. And I have to let you hurt both of us until you've healed, make it right by you in the meantime. I'd  _ let _ you do anything to me."

"You want me to."

"I can't, though. I know what it does to you to hurt someone you love, remember?"

I nod. "I'm not sure I can keep doing this."

"We'll find a way. Just...keep the stuff you did earlier to a bare minimum, please?"

I laugh. "I guess. What the fuck is wrong with me?" 

"Nothing. Just pointing that anger at the right person is all. You'd be happier if you pointed it at random strangers. Maybe a villainous cape."

"Like the person who killed Emma Barnes?" 

She shrugs. "I guess? Maybe it's self serving but hurting the right person will only make it worse for us right now." 

I consider this. As fucked up rationalizations go it's among Sophia's best. Which is saying something. "All right." I sip the tea. "You ever gonna explain that name you almost called me?" 

Sophia shakes her head. "Not yet. I love you for you and getting  _ that  _ mixed up in it is very bad right now."

"I see."

We sit in silence for a moment, and then she has more to say. "I thought you were going to kill me. I really really did." 

I nod. "I did too. But…I wanted to hurt you more than I wanted to kill you." 

She scoffs gently. "Well you did. And thank fuck for that. I can live through anything as long as I have you."

My hand finds hers again. No questions, no answers, just love. "Same."

I can allow myself fleeting glimpses of internal contemplation. Only glimmers, never enough light to scare the rats away. And now is a good time for one of them. So I use it, of course, for exactly the wrong thing. 

_ Why do I want to be alive, if she's the price of doing so?  _

It's a thought that won't leave me for a good long time. So I need to scare it away. Quickly and decisively. 

"Soph. Put your clothes on. We got places to go before Dad gets back." 

She jumps to her feet, saluting me with a grin. "Where to, boss?" 

There's a mean and decisive glint in my eyes as I look at my lover. "We're gonna go kill someone." 

"Um, who?" 

"I don't know and I don't fucking care. Kids, maybe, even. We'll know 'em when we see 'em."

She gawks at me. "You're…you're serious." 

"Sophia, we can dress it up in a cape and pretty colors after we're done. My head will not stop screaming until I kill someone, so that is what I am going to do." 

She stammers. So weak, so noble, so virtuous, so unlike me. "I mean…"

I have heard enough. I shove her up against the wall, hands around her throat. "Unless you have any fucking ideas about volunteering you will help me do this. Understand?" 

"yes miss," she squeaks. God, her fear is so arousing. 

"Good. Get your clothes on. We gotta be done and back before midnight." 

There's a dim alarm bell in the back of my head, telling me I'm doing this exactly wrong. But I know if I don't choke it out mercilessly it will start whispering about therapy, and shit like that. And I didn't lose my eye just to sit there and cry with someone who  _ isn't her _ . I have to be strong for her, lead her, or her use of violence to find meaning in her miserable life will hurt her, and countless others. In return she can let me cry on her. This is all the solace either of us really deserve. So it's what we're going to go get. 

Finally we're both dressed and out the door. Heading downtown, driven by a horrific instinct. Toward a strip between the Docks and ABB territory. Toward something I can as soon  _ smell _ as feel. Was I serious about killing kids? I don't know. I don't know if I want to know. I suppose I'll find out after I'm done doing it. 

Which is certainly one way of going through life. But I've got her with me, right? 

She taps my shoulder. "Hey. Stupid question, I know it's a bad time, but humor me okay?" 

"Sure."

"Is there anything I could do that would make you not want to…be with me anymore?" 

"Yeah, about that. Bad time. Later." There will never be a good time for that question. Doesn't she remember the thing with my eye?! 

"Right. Hey, up ahead. There's a group, maybe." 

I squint. Four shades. Larger blobs, not human, can't make out what they are. I relay this information to Sophia, and she laughs. 

"All right, Miss. Let's kill someone!" 

"Who? You know who that is?" 

She nods, grinning ferally. "The Undersiders. Their leader is a guy named Grue. Bad news. Darkness power, like ours only it coats entire areas. Small time thug, waste of a great power. They're  _ all  _ like that, actually. Some kind of minor thinker who's just a complete bitch, an antisocial literal dog fucker, and a queer dude who can, um, trip people. I think if we tried we could kill them all, tonight. Does this suit you, miss?"

I grin, sucking in a breath with the sheer thrill of it. "Why yes, yes it does." 

"Sweet." She pumps a fist in triumph and then leans over to kiss me. "This is gonna be fucking awesome. You're fucking awesome." 

"And awesome at…"

She nods. "Yes, ma'am!" 

We set up, her with the crossbow on a ledge overlooking their path crosswise, me facing them directly behind cover. Yet another dumpster -- it’s like poetry, it rhymes! -- but it works. We have a killzone. 

Almost immediately, though, our plan encounters the enemy. The blonde, their thinker, looks around and then holds up her hand. “Ambush. Bad news. No darkness yet, Grue. Bitch, fan out. Get the dogs to flush our bogies out. Regent, get ready to disrupt, ranged weapons.”

I look at Sophia, mouthing “you didn’t say they were good!”, but she’s not really paying attention. She’s got Grue in her sights. The thinker looks up. She’s been made!

“Oh, hi, Shadow Stalker. You brought company, though? That’s new.” Sophia is sighting her crossbow in on Grue, lining up a shot. 

I won’t allow this to continue This  _ bitch _ has picked the wrong fight. I open fire. Four, five rounds. Rapid fire, losing control of the muzzle a bit. She jumps back, drawing a gun of her own, but she’s been hit. On her gun arm. I grin. 

“Preternaturally good combat thinker. Impulsive, angry. Recent trigger, no clue about rules. Trauma out the  _ gills _ .” 

She’s taunting me.  _ She’s taunting me, that bitch! _ But before I can really internalize this, there’s a huge fucking monster on top of me, in the vague shape of a dog. It sinks its teeth into me, snarling hungrily. My shoulder is on fire. I empty the clip, panting. Then I realize I can’t go to reload with my arm pinned, and I make one of those obsidian spikes. It cuts through the layers of dog-stuff like butter, then penetrates a softer core. The mutt whimpers and goes still. The stocky girl, Bitch, I guess, screams in rage. Sounds like me sometimes. It’s a good sound. I didn’t know how  _ good _ it felt to make someone else feel that way. 

And I didn’t come here to kill dogs. Luckily, the smug blonde cunt is almost to me, as I swing my arm to cut through the corpse of the dog and propel myself to a standing position. She levels the gun at me. “All right Grue, I got eyes on. Hit the lights.”

There’s blackness everywhere, and the  _ thinker _ is engaging me hand to hand. “You gonna do it?” She pauses, cocking her head, grappling with me. “You can see me. Wild.”

“That’s right,” I say, stabbing her under the ribs. She doesn’t die, so I pull back for another shot. Sophia hasn't fired on Grue yet. I guess she can't see him now.

“Hey, I know you need a hug, but it’s a  _ tad _ early for penetration, don’t you think?”

I scream wordlessly, throwing myself at her. She sidesteps me, and I go flying and faceplant. Fuck. Super embarrassing. 

From the sound of it, Sophia has engaged the dogs, who have found her ledge somehow. Then they go silent, and she fades across the street in a flying leap to another ledge above us. A bolt lances down and the thinker dodges it neatly, bleeding all over me as she does so. 

“Name’s Lisa. Tattletale, if you like, but I know you kinda don’t. We’ll talk soon. Tata for now, though.” She makes a hand signal and continues. “Regent, spam, please.”

Sophia and I start spasming right there in the street. We look stupid as hell, I’m certain. The Undersiders all jump on their dogs and the darkness recedes. The stocky one, Bitch, is crying for some reason. They ride away, and the spasms stop.

I stand up, shaking with rage. I scream. Long and loud and  _ hateful _ . I’ve never felt so embarrassed or ashamed. Sophia holds me, stroking my hair. “They really brought their A-game, baby. I was not expecting that. I’m sorry. But you really put the hurt on Tattletale. You did good. They won’t forget us, and we’ll get ‘em next time.”

I shake my head and slap her away. “NO! Not good enough!”

“I know, baby, I know. I’ll make us dinner. We can...do stuff again?”

“Fuck! Fine. Fine. I swear to God I will fucking  _ kill _ Tattletale and you will help me.”

“That’s the spirit, boss! And you’re damn right I will.”

We trudge home, hand in bloody hand. I’m actually smiling. For the first time since before the alley, I have a reason to live. One that  _ isn’t her _ . Today has been just the fucking  _ best _ day. 

And anyway, that’s the story of how on Wednesday I crossed all the lines I can never take back.


	6. Interlude: Sophia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a ray of hope shines, and your loyal servant the Author fires up the violet chainsaw off camera...

It’s Thursday. I’m asleep in my own bed. At home, with Mom. In the house where Stephen...did what he did, the fucker. Did someone do to him, once, maybe when he was our age, what I did to her? Is this angry terror that won’t let her be -- that I can’t scare away with my own darkness, that I can’t cover with my shadow -- what gripped him as he ran roughshod?

Can I withstand what she’s doing to me long enough to make up for what I did? Can I heal her and keep the girl I love, without being destroyed myself? For the third time in eighteen hours, I am seriously considering turning myself in for the murder of Emma Barnes. Emma wouldn’t have wanted this for Taylor, even at her worst. And the truth is I’m not sorry she’s dead.

Well. That makes it sound like I enjoyed killing her, or at least like I’m not sorry I did. And you know what? I have fifth amendment rights, thank you. Next question. 

All right, listen. I’m making it sound like I don’t think I did anything to her, what with all this “I didn’t do this to her,” and all. I know. “Oh, woe is me, I’m the real victim here!” But no, the fucking truth is...and I hate it...I didn’t do this to her. She’s doing this to herself. She wants to hurt. And I can’t reach her. And I’m her easiest target because I do, actually, kinda deserve it. 

But someone has to draw a line in the sand. Someone has to decide where the hurting stops. And she can’t right now. She’s lost her mind. Not that I’m not going to help her kill the Undersiders. Hell yes I am, and we’re gonna screw each other silly on the stacked bodies. You bet your ass. But she’s...not okay. And I don’t know how to help. 

She’s lucky. An hour after that shit with the gun I felt like I still deserved everything. It was when she decided she was killing someone, just like that, that I realized I...I don’t actually deserve this. Miss is no longer fair. And that selfishness on my part will save us both. It has to. 

Which is why I’m considering turning myself in. Maybe they’ll let me go Ward, and I can get her some help...or something. I don’t know. 

My cell phone rings. It’s her. Fuck her. I ain’t doing that right now. Need space. 

Then it occurs to me. Because of her, I learned I can trust people I once considered enemies, and they can become my best friends...will that work twice? I flip open my browser and pull up PHO. Let’s see, Connections...god I hope this works.

We spoke last night in an alley by the Docks. I’m an old friend of Grue’s. You’re a broken wing nurse with a broken wing. She’s the crazy one. I want to help her. Can you? 

I roll over after posting, and nap. Crying myself to sleep softly. I don’t dream, blessedly. I’m horrified to think what I might see if I did. An hour or two later, a buzz and a soft chime wake me up. 

Oh, you have got to be kidding me. Too funny. But yes, Stalker. We’ll help her. 

I smile through sharp tears. Type out a reply. Thanks. I mean that most sincerely. Don’t tell Grue I’m sorry, because I’m not.

I wouldn’t dream. You care for her, though.

I choke on the lump in my throat. Yes. I don’t want her to hurt me but I don’t want her to hurt anyone else.

Wonders never cease. Well, if there’s hope for you there’s hope for her.

I shake my head, crying freely. She is my hope. She just can’t handle what...nvm.

Copy that. In person? Boardwalk, two hours. Come alone.

I consider. And yes, I decide. Anything for her. Even into the jaws of certain death. 

My phone rings again. This time I pick it up. “Hey.”

She sounds stable, at least. “Hey, you. Wanna come over and…”

“No. We can’t do that every day. And besides…”

I sigh. “Taylor, you’re dangerous. To yourself most of all.”

She gasps in shock. “What the fuck?”

“No, listen. Don’t get me wrong. I love you. I always will. But I need a couple minutes, okay? Maybe a couple days. I have to think. This is very hard, and I promised you I’d do the right thing for you, always. This is me doing that, okay?”

She’s shouting now. “It’s not fair! I need you! I’ve got no one else!”

“Taylor, baby, I know...I know, all right? I will come by the house tomorrow and we can grab dinner or something. Hey, uh, did your dad notice the holes? Or the blood? Or, like, anything?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been avoiding him.” Well fuck. That’s not good at all. I have no idea exactly how bad it is. And Danny Hebert not only doesn’t deserve to clean up after my messes, but I really think he doesn’t know how. I wonder for a brief moment if Miss will harm him…

God I love her so much. I have to help her. 

“Well, don’t draw his attention to them if he’s doing okay. Does he like me?”

“He let us do all that stuff, didn’t he?”

“No, I mean like...does he like me? Did he say anything?”

She pauses. “He said he’s glad I have a friend again, even if he’s not sure I’m being realistic about it.”

Sigh. Fuck, that dude couldn’t have picked a worse way to approach this. “He thinks you’re grieving and irrational.”

“Yeah, I guess.” 

“Well you are. And you’re doing it with me. And it’s totally okay, all right?”

She brightens. “All right!” It suddenly occurs to me. I’m talking to the nine year old Emma used to have such contempt for. My dark and murderous mistress is nothing but a sassy lost child, deep down. And the very thought makes me smile, wide and true. 

“Hey, uh, listen. I gotta be someplace in a couple hours, right? I will walk you home from school tomorrow and we can chill or something. Maybe even, yeah, that.” I grin despite myself. 

She sounds cheerful again. Oh, my Taylor, I’d give the world to make you happy all the time...and maybe in my own way, that's what I’m doing. “Great! I’ll see you then.”

I hang up at that. I’m feeling positive again. There’s a way back for her...and there’s a way back for me. We will get out of this, together, better than we got in.

*****

It occurs to me as I approach the rendezvous point that this is the perfect way for them to kill me. And that I probably deserve it. But that’s not how most capes think...just Taylor. And me, I remind myself. I have to be honest with myself. She got this from me. All of it. The bad and the...is there good? If there’s good in me then there’s good in what I gave her…

Hm. Something to think about. I look up, just in time to see Lisa approaching with two bottles of Mountain Dew. She hands me one and I take it gratefully. “Can I sit down?”

I nod. “Sure.”

She crosses her legs and leans back into the bench. “You guys did real good yesterday. I’m not gonna lie, our boss wanted us to go all out. He’s heard some...things, through the grapevine. It seems that there are some loose and very concerned lips in the ER at Brockton General, and your girlfriend has obtained a PRT codename of Vindex. Possibly worse than just a codename. After last night she’s a known associate of Shadow Stalker, which means the unwritten rules need to start working for you guys instead of against you, capiche?”

I swallow. “Copy that. So your boss wants her.”

“Got it in one. And they’d fucking love each other. So I figure if it comes down to him getting more help doing...his thing, which is not our thing...or explaining to Grue that you’ve agreed to join the team...we could both deal with the latter.”

I give her some real side-eye. “What?”

“Oh, yeah. You’re joining the team. You’re an Undersider now, baby.”

“I am doing no such thing.”

She stands up. “Well, great talking, then. It’s nice to know there are things you won’t do for Taylor.”

I shake my head, feeling my breath shorten in terror. “No, no, it’s okay. I’ll join.”

“I know. Good. It’s okay, you know? We’re gonna get her out of this.”

“Can...can she join too?”

“I think it’s possible. She’s hurting real bad, no?”

I nod.

“Tell me everything.”

I do. I pour my heart out to someone I was trying to kill last night. And it makes me feel like things can be okay, to do that.

She nods, listening. As she does, I begin to realize that I have people I can talk to that aren’t Taylor...maybe we can both have friends. Maybe we can be okay. Maybe we can even do that together. 

“So after we got back, I realized that if she keeps this up, she’s gonna kill me. And then I realized that that would hurt her and that’s why I don’t want to get killed.”

Tattletale nods. Her eyes radiate concern, genuine care. It’s eerie as fuck. “Love changes a person.”

“But with everything I did to her...do I really love her?”

“You did it and then you chose to love her to make up for it. Love doesn’t care why you chose it so long as you chose it, does it?”

“I guess not.” I smile. “So you don’t think I’m a bad person?”

She guffaws. “Oh, honey, I did not say that. Speaking as one bad person to another, you are a very bad person. But you’re Taylor’s person.”

I mean, I was hoping for a bit more than that. “That works, I guess.”

“It’ll have to. You don’t need to be a good person. Almost no one is. You just need to do right by her. You’ve chosen her, and from everything you’ve told me it was the right choice.”

“Can we...help her? Is that really a thing? Or is she too far gone?”

“She’s not in her right mind. She’s flailing for something stable. And hurting you for the sheer fuck of it was part of that flailing. I don’t think it satisfied her or you’d be dead, right?”

I shake my head. “I guess. So we can get her stable?”

“Yes. She was trying to react to your bid to control her, you know. You thought you made her, and she disabused you of that notion very swiftly.”

My voice catches in my stupid love-lorn throat. “I love her for it.”

“I know you do. She’s not like you. Decisively inflicting pain and control isn’t easy for her. She...tried, and I think we can get her to see it doesn’t work for her. But it’s got to not be part of your dynamic at all.”

“Which means I need to stop being that way too.”

Lisa nods. “Yeah.”

“Which is why I need to work with people I hate.”

“Oh, it’s very mutual. You’re all right, but last night I had no idea. You two are acting as if all the hurt you caused each other before doesn’t matter, like it didn’t happen. And it does matter, just like your past actions will impact your relationship with us.” 

‘Yeah. How are you such a fucking Obi-wan, anyway?”

She smirks. “Lots of practice, lots of pain. I hate myself as much as you two do.”

“So a lot then.” I grin, despite myself.

“Ehhh. Maybe more than you two do. But...you learn.”

I nod. We sit silently, and I think about this for a moment. A long moment. “So what are your actual plans? To help her, I mean.”

She looks me in the eye. “Listen very carefully.”

*****

It’s Friday, and the weekend is almost here. An entire weekend with her, for her...for us, I guess. To begin on these plans that may or may not work. I walk her home from school, and we go up to her room, nodding our greetings to her dad. He’s skeptical, but I do think he likes me. I hope, anyway. Maybe wishful thinking. 

I shut the door gently behind us, and I wrap my arms around her. She leans up to kiss me, and I smile “Hey,” I say, putting my foot onto the path. “I’m sorry. The one-eyed look is rakish and all, but you should have two.”

She nuzzles me. “I have you.”

I nod. “And I’ll try to see for you.”

She shivers. I think she’s about to start crying again, but she looks at me with real hope in her eyes, and I think, maybe we can get out of this. “Thank you,” she says. “It’s been difficult to do that myself of late.”

“I know. I know, miss, I know.” And now I have to really fuck things up bad. Please God don’t let this bite me in the ass…

“So.”

“Yeah?”

“I joined the Undersiders.”

She laughs out loud. “Ha, that’s great. Oh, wait, you’re serious. No, wait, what the fuck?” She’s still laughing, it’s okay, it’s actually okay…

I feel great. Maybe it won’t last. I sure hope it does...


End file.
